Page 115 of At First Dance
“You wrecked me with that,” I murmur.
She smiles, blinking fast. “Good.”
I laugh against her mouth. “You think you’re clever?”
“I think I’m yours.”
That undoes me. Right there.
On the stage I rebuilt from something half forgotten, with fairy lights above us and hay underfoot, Ivy claims me in front of everyone. And I let her. It’s about damn time I stopped pretending I don’t want to be hers too.
After the song, after the kiss, after the applause dies down and the stage lights flicker to amber with the dipping sun, the world starts moving again.
Ivy and I step off the platform hand in hand.
Crew saunters over, smirking with a red popsicle in his hand as if he’s not the reason half the camp is high on sugar.“So...that was one hell of a debut. You’re gonna start taking requests, or was that a one-time love ballad just for your grumpy cowboy?”
Ivy grins, cheeks flushed. “No encores.”
“Shame,” he teases, before clapping me on the shoulder. “Proud of you, man. The camp, the stage, all of it.”
“Thanks,” I mutter, still overwhelmed.
He leans in and whispers, “You know she’s all in now, right? Don’t screw it up.”
“I don’t plan to.”
He raises both brows. “Then go do something about it. Because she’s got that ‘should I have come back?’ look again.”
He’s not wrong. I glance at Ivy, eyes darting at all the kids as they wave in her direction, and something stirs in my chest—protective, possessive, and grateful as hell.
I want her here. Not just now and not just tonight but every day.
“Hey,” I murmur when she stands, brushing off grass. “You mind helping me put away a few supplies before dinner?”
“Sure,” she says, falling into step beside me, the air between us warm and buzzing with energy we haven’t touched yet.
We cut behind the barn while the others light the firepit, laughter and clinking cups fading. Inside, it smells like hay and cedar, with the low shuffle of horses in their stalls.
I walk us toward the tack room, pretending we have something to organize, but really, I just need a second with her without prying eyes and definitely without my mother wiping away another proud tear.
Just Ivy and me.
The moment the door closes, she turns to me, arms crossed loosely over her chest. “So... that was quite a stage you built.”
I shrug, trying not to give too much away. “Had the pieces lying around.”
“Really?” she asks, stepping closer. “Because it looked a lot like something someone made just for me.”
“Maybe I did.” I glance down. “Maybe I hoped you’d come back.”
Her breath hitches.
I close the distance, my hands settling at her waist, thumbs brushing the hem of her shirt. “Didn’t know how else to say I missed you. Especially as your time away extended.”
I faintly hear her grumble, “Mother.” Then she says clearly, “You built a stage instead.”
“Words have never been my thing,” I murmur, leaning down, brushing my lips along her jaw. “But I’m trying.”
